


Blate Quyne (WIP; working title)

by LiliannaBelle (Tam)



Category: Hamish MacBeth (TV)
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-09-29
Updated: 2013-09-29
Packaged: 2017-12-27 23:13:15
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,941
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/984780
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Tam/pseuds/LiliannaBelle
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hamish and Isobel begin a tentative romance.  Romantic fluff :)  Will be NC 17 in later chapters, but this one is just G.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Blate Quyne (WIP; working title)

**Author's Note:**

> As Robert Carlyle himself has said, he gave Hamish some edge by having him be clueless with women, completely confused by romance. So I wondered what would happen if, having little else to guide him as he starts dating Isobel, he transferred his experiences with his previous girlfriend, the forthright Alex, to a much less-experienced Isobel.
> 
>  
> 
> http://film.guardian.co.uk/Guardian_NFT/interview/0,,71624,00.html
> 
> "...Acting is a form of therapy. Robert, is it true...the role of Hamish Macbeth...lacks edge?"
> 
> RC: "I don't know if I've ever said that actually. To a certain extent it's probably true...What I tried to do with Hamish was to subvert it as much as I possibly could, bringing in the hash smoking and all these wee things I thought were nice. I also tried to go for his problems with women and how he couldn't really relate to them. That seemed to me to be quite interesting."

“No thanks, Barney, I’ll just have a coke, if it’s all the same.” Isobel smiled at the publican, trying not to shrink too far down in her seat. She felt as if the eyes of the whole pub were on her—on them. It was her first real ‘date’ with Constable Macbeth since…well, ever, really. But certainly their first time out together since what had happened to Alex all those months ago.

Barney returned her smile warmly. “Aye, lass, as you please.” He shuffled off, sharing his smile now with his wife, Agnes as she met his eyes across the crowded pub. Isobel could feel their approval and tried to let it relax her a little. The villagers supported them, she knew as much, but she couldn’t help but worry all the same.

She looked up at a soft touch on her hand.

“A’ight, Isobel?” Hamish’s soft brown eyes were filled with concern.

She ducked her head for a moment. “Course I am.”

They went quiet when Agnes brought their drinks, a pint of bitter for Hamish, the coke for Isobel, and an encouraging smile for them both. “Got some Shepherd’s pie the night, ye think ye might be hungry?”

“Sounds great, Agnes, thank you.”

Was it Isobel’s imagination or was Hamish’s cheer a little bit strained? His slid a hand cross the table, his fingers reaching for hers. Their fingers tangled together, and Agnes’ smile widened even further.

“Two Shepherd’s pies then, coming right up!”

She left them alone again. Isobel looked up at Hamish, searching his eyes anxiously. Maybe it was too soon after all? Would he have second thoughts? But no, all his concern was only for her. She supposed she was being a bit quiet.

She immediately felt better when he placed his both hands over hers, engulfing them in a reassuring warmth. She shivered, but grasped his fingers to hers in case he misinterpreted her reaction.

He tipped his head toward her drink, quirking a trademark PC Macbeth interrogative eyebrow. It made Isobel smile to see it.

“You no’ want a pint…or some wine, or even a wee dram of whiskey in yer coke?”

She shook her head. But he was still looking at her, his eyebrow demanding an explanation even though he didn’t probe further with questions.

“Do you remember the last time we sat in this here booth, Hamish? Drinking together?”

He frowned, trying to puzzle out this new mystery.

“T’be honest with ye, Isobel, no, I don’t.”

She raised her own eyebrows now. “I wouldn’t expect you would, or that you’d remember anythin’ of that night really, after all those whiskeys you put away one after t’other as the townsfolk kept treatin’ you.”

“Oh. That night.”

“Aye. And that time when when you almost…we almost…”

“Kissed?” he finished for her. Isobel’s cheeks warmed as he just kept on gazing at her.

“You remember that part then?” She fiddled with her straw, watching condensation run down the side of her glass.

“Clear as crystal. I can handle mah liquor, Isobel; wouldnae be much of a Scotsman if I couldn’t!” He smiled at her then, he had such a lovely smile. She smiled tentatively in return, and a silence fell between them.

Eventually Hamish spoke up, his voice barely more than a whisper. “You aren’t scared I’ll get carried away or anything, are you, Isobel?”

“Course not!” She shook her head firmly. Hamish nodded, looking relieved.

Isobel couldn’t think of anything to say after that so she licked dry lips and looked down at her lap, risking a glance at up him just in time to catch a small frown of confusion flit across his forehead.

“But if that’s what yer worrying about, Isobel, maybe I should just get a coke too.”

She loved they way he said her name; she always had. And she loved that he would do that for her—turn down his pint, if it would make her more at ease.

“No, no. Don’t be silly. It’s just…it’s no’ you am worried about, Hamish. It’s me.”

His eyebrows rose. “But you always have a drink when I see you in here.”

She nodded. “And you always make sure I get home safely. Well, me an’ the rest of the village,” she added, blushing again at her presumptuousness that he would be especially protective of her.

He ran his hand through his cropped hair—almost regulation, but just a bit untamed and uneven. “You especially, Isobel.” 

His eyes were so intense on hers now she couldn’t look away. Gosh, but she loved how he said her name, she loved his caring eyes, she loved his fierce protectiveness, she loved the feel of his surprisingly large hands covering hers again.

And that was exactly why she was drinking coke, and only coke. She took a long sip as if to remind herself of this fact. She had no fear that Hamish could control himself, no matter how many whiskeys he put away—she’d seen him break up many an impending bar fight between drunkards when by rights he should barely have been able to stand up straight himself.

However, she suspected if she had so much as half a glass of wine, well…she’d be his to do with as he pleased. And that thought didn’t disturb her anywhere near as much as it ought. She cleared her throat, shocked at herself. “I just…I want to—” take you back to my place right now and forget the Shepherd’s pie “…um, remember everything…’bout tonight.”

He tilted his head. “You sure that’s all you’re worried about? Remembering this?”

She bit her lip. His instincts were good, too good sometimes. Well, that’s what she got for stepping out with the village bobby. “It’s our first proper….you know.”

“Date?” 

She could see by his crooked smile how the word felt foreign in his mouth. 

She smiled back. “And you know us, how long it’s taken us to get this far, it could be our last!” She hadn't meant to blurt that out, but it was true, wasn’t it? 

“It won’t be,” he promised, leaning in and lifting her hands in his. “You’ve gi’en me a second chance, and I’m no’ goin’ to screw this up again.” 

She watched, mesmerized, as his lips grazed her knuckles.

His eyes were still a little troubled. “Isobel…I want ye to know, I—”

Whatever he had been about to say had trailed off as Barney was back, two steaming plates of Shepherd’s pie, with a generous helping of beans and turnip on the side.

Isobel smiled to see Hamish reluctantly release her hands and press his lips together into his long-suffering smile as he graciously thanked the barkeep. He dropped her a sly wink, and she giggled into her soft drink.

Barney glanced at her, probably picking up on the uncharacteristic nervousness in her giggle. “Sure you don’ want me t’bring you a coke with a wee finger of whiskey in it, Isobel girl? Might help you relax a tad.” He whispered the last bit conspiratorially. Isobel swallowed down further nervous giggles.

“She’s fine, Barney. Thanks though.” Hamish clapped a friendly hand on Barney’s shoulder, and the two men exchanged a look.

“Right you are then, you two. I’ll leave you to it, shall I? Just holler if you want anything else. I’ll be back with a top up, when you need it, Hamish.”

“’Preciate it, Barney.” The constable nodded to the older man, who retreated once more.

~~~

Hamish offered Isobel his arm as he walked her home. The dinner had been wonderful, even though they had spent the entire night fielding warm but curious looks and comments from well-meaning Lochdubh residents. He was glad to finally get her all to himself, and he fancied she was just as relieved to be alone with him. He had taken her hand as soon as they stepped out into the street, and the sweetness of her smile as he had clasped her hand in his and tugged her close warmed his heart. As did her laugh when Jock bounded about their feet, happy to be back out in the fresh air.

Nonetheless, Hamish couldn’t disagree with Barney’s earlier assessment; all evening Isobel seemed as wound up with nerves as he had ever seen her. Then again, could he blame her? It had been such a long road just to get them this far…a simple first date.

Just to be sure, he made sure he refused a third pint. Isobel had grown up around these parts just as he had; he’d never known her to be reticent about having a drink at the local pub—matter of fact, he’d escorted her home many an evening when her old pals from school visited for holidays. He’d enjoyed watching over them as they indulged (sometimes over-indulged) down at Agnes and Barney’s. He had also enjoyed how Isobel had slipped her arm into his when they’d seen off all her friends, and she never said a word that she was always the last one he dropped off at her door. She had seemed to treasure their brief time alone just as much as he’d had.

How would things have been different if he’d had the courage of his convictions back then and acted on his growing feelings? But she had been so young, and he barely out of his first tour of duty after police college, doing his best to learn the ropes of community policing under TV John’s subtle tuteledge.

A cold wind picked up, and Hamish tucked Isobel under his arm, bringing her tiny frame closer to his body. She looked up at him and smiled tentatively. He was reminded that she was still young; he had a good six years on her. Not that it meant anything, his mind was just darting all over the place, trying to work out why she was so quiet. 

“Hamish?”

“Aye?”

“This is no’ the way to my place.”

No, it wasn’t, but she didn’t sound upset about it, he noted happily. “I thought we could go back to the police house, if you like, Isobel?”

“Is TV John..?”

“He’ll have gone home awhile ago, it will just be you and me.”

She hesitated, biting her lip. Hamish slowed their steps until he was standing in front of her, sheltering her body from the chiling wind as best he could.

“It’s up to you, Isobel. I can just walk you home, if you prefer?” Could it be she was nervous about being alone with him? He entertained the idea and immediately discarded it: they’d been alone together plenty over the years, and he was not exactly what any woman would call intimidating.

Her beautiful big brown eyes searched his. “Mmm,” she replied, undecidedly.

Was she trembling? Or was it just the cold? She seemed so small, huddled inside her thick coat. Hamish began rubbing his hands on her arms to keep her warm. He ignored Jock’s paws scrabbling at his legs, the wee dog eager to keep moving.

“I can make you a cuppa…or, if you like, TV John got some Horlicks in when he went for the messages today…we could warm up you up a bit?” he tried again, unable to keep the slightly desperate hope from his unsteady voice. The evening had gone well, but they could easily just have had dinner as Hamish and Isobel—good friends, but nothing more. Was that all she wanted? Goodness knows he couldn’t blame her, not with everything he had put her through, with Alex and… 

His mind stuttered to a halt, not wanting to think about Alex right now. The Major asking him to be his best man had gone a long way towards relievng Hamish of some of his guilt, but the rest of it he would carry with him the rest of his days.

He cleared his throat and offered a half-bow, hiding his emotions behind tomfoolery. 

“Where to my lady?”

“I…um…warm up a bit?” Her eyes were wide as she echoed his words and another shiver ran through her.

Hamish hid his grimace; he hadn't meant to imply anything and scare her off. “Get a fire going, I mean, winter’s nearly on us,” he clarified. Jock barked as if in agreement.

“I’d say it’s just about here,” she laughed nervously as the ever-increasing wind almost snatched her words away. She huddled even closer to him, alleviating his fears that he might have frightened her somehow. 

He wrapped an arm around her thin shoulders as they set off briskly for the police house.

~~~

Jock bounded ahead of them, slipping in the door the moment Hamish had it open. Isobel hesitated only moments on his front step. This was ridiculous, she told herself firmly—she had been here hundreds of times. Besides, maybe all he wanted was to share a cup of tea with her before turning in anyway. His modest two pints at the pub would be out of his system soon enough and then he’d be driving her home before she knew it. She stepped across the threshold, looking up at him as he moved to pull the door to behind her.

They both stared at each other, just inside the doorway, suddenly aware of how alone they were and how late it was. His hands came up to the lapels of her coat. There was no mistaking the intensity in his eyes now.

“Isobel—”

“Hamish—”

The both stopped and shared a sheepish grin. Jock gave a short, sharp bark from the direction of his food bowl, breaking the strange, but not unwelcome, tension between them. Hamish dropped his hands slowly from her coat.

“Ah—I’ll just put the kettle on, shall I?”

She nodded, following him into the kitchen. She saw to Jock’s water and food while Hamish busied himself with the kettle…and the Horlicks…and the hot chocolate. He fumbled around in the cupboard and produced a jar of Ovaltine too. She smiled when she realized he was just as flummoxed as she felt—and yet there was also an air of quiet domesticity as they moved around each other fluidly.

“You got him to eat,” Hamish remarked, nodding his head toward the dog. “He likes you. Normally he holds out for TV John.”

Isobel found herself blushing for no good reason at all. She turned away slightly, hoping Hamish wouldn’t notice. “Naw, I reckon wee Jock’s just worked up an appetite being out in the cold.”

She blinked at her own words, daring a quick glance up at Hamish, who was staring at her. A small smile played on his lips but his cheeks were as flushed as hers felt. Why did everything tonight seem so…loaded? Perhaps it was just the build up…all these months (years, if she was being honest) and now here they were. Any notion that PC Macbeth’s intentions were purely friendly had gone right out of her head when she recalled how he had looked at her in the doorway, or how proprietary his hands had felt on her coat.

“Ah…did you want tea?”

“Best not have any more caffeine, I think, I’m jittery enough,” she tried to laugh it off but Hamish simply nodded, his eyes reflecting that concern again.

“Well, we have Horlicks, Cadbury’s, or Ovaltine?”

“Ovaltine?” she asked shyly. Somehow she felt that Hamish and Alex’s first date had probably not involved malted hot chocolate—perhaps a different kind of malted drink, maybe. Not for the first time, Isobel wondered what on earth she was doing with a man like Hamish; or more to the point, why he would be bothered with the likes of her. She couldn’t possibly live up to the high class and culture Alex had brought into his life.

Muttering an excuse, she hurried into the living room, leaving him behind as she stoked the fire with more coal. TV John had left it burning for them, and stocked up the coal bucket full, she noticed. He had also left out some candles, strategically placed round the room. Just how much had TV John known about her and Hamish’s first date, she mused as she went aroud the room, lighting the candles instead of clicking on the overhead bulb. She nodded her approval as she looked around; cosy, warm and welcoming.

Finally, she mustered up the courage to unbutton her coat and tiptoe back into the kitchen. She watched from the doorway as Hamish stirred two sugars into his Ovaltine, and one into hers. They already knew each other so well. He looked up and caught her staring, but he smiled so warmly she couldn’t look away. The quietness between them was comfortable now.

He piled biscuits and their mugs onto a tea tray, then carried it into the living room. His eyes darkened as he moved close to her, slowing on his way past. He gave her another gentle smile.

After setting his tray down, shucking his jacket and toeing off his shoes, he came back to where she stood in the doorway. Still wordless, he lifted a questioning eyebrow as he raised his hands to her coat. Isobel nodded slightly, feeling more than a little entranced as he ever so carefully divested her of her coat and slowly unwound her scarf. Then he trailed his hands down her arms, his eyes holding hers. Their fingers wound together and he pulled her gently into the living room, kicking the door closed behind them, and settling her on the couch in front of the fire.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you SO much for reading! Should I continue? I love this paring SO much!


End file.
